His Fathers' Son
by ConsultingCaffrey
Summary: Neal is the son of Felix Turner and Ned Weeks. It's about time that information came to light. Aka Neal is going through a hard time and his new family is there to help him through it.
1. Chapter 1

(Still haven't gotten to see The Normal Heart AGH! But thank you to the lovely anon on Tumblr who requested this! I love this idea! Heads up, dates have been changed around so that Neal was about 16 when Felix died)

(No, I haven't forgotten about the other requests I've gotten. This one just happened to get done first. Yes, there will be another chapter for Take Me Back To Normal. I didn't plan it, but enough people have spoken up that I've been talked into making more, so there's that plus a request for another Neal Caffreys chapter, so that's what I'm working on! Thank you all for your patience!)

Neal remembered his fathers, of course. He'd never forget the day he held Felix's hand for the last time and told him he loved him, or the day after that when he found Ned lying there, seemingly asleep, but Neal knew immediately that he was dead too.

That was when he'd run for the first time. Neal Turner-Weeks disappeared, and Neal Caffrey was born.

He kept mementos of both his parents (even though only one of them was his biological father and anyone could easily guess which one). He had Felix's columns all cut out and kept together in a scrapbook. He read them often. He also kept both their rings, which he planned to use for his own special someone, if he ever got that lucky. All of Ned's books and things went with him as well, but Neal couldn't hold onto most of them. There were too many to run with.

He managed to keep most of those things with him, even through prison, and when he moved into June's. It was there that he finally had a safe place to put them and he was greatly relieved for that. He'd be devastated if he ever lost any of it.

Peter asked about his parents, of course, but Neal never gave him any more than a few vague —but not untrue— answers. That always did the trick and soon enough, Peter came to realize that Neal didn't want to talk about the subject, so he quit asking.

Neal had thought that would be that.

-)()(-

Awareness came slowly, but Neal could immediately tell that something wasn't right. His head felt hazy, and not just from sleep. There was the strong smell of smoke in the air and it took him a moment to fully wake up. When he did, he realized his lungs were burning and his eyes stung.

He sat up sharply, coughing, and he was out of bed in a flash, squinting through the smoke as his eyes teared up and he started shouting for June, only to remember that she was out of the country for two weeks, visiting relatives in Italy. That was a considerable relief, so Neal went searching for the only other living thing in the house, which was Bugsy.

The little pug was downstairs, running around frantically as he barked nonstop. Neal hadn't been able to hear him. He scooped the little dog into his arms and looked around. There was hardly any smoke down here at all, so Neal knew the fire was somewhere upstairs. He wasn't going back up to check.

Outside, he held tight to Bugsy, who struggled to break free of his arms, and called for help, though as he looked up to see all the smoke billowing from the windows, he knew at least one room was probably already damaged quite a bit.

The night dissolved into flashing lights and activity, and Neal was glad when Peter showed up after he called him as well.

"What the hell happened?" the agent asked, looking around in shock.

Neal shook his head. "Don't know yet. The firefighter I talked to said it looked like an accident, that's all." He was anxious now, though, and Peter couldn't tell why.

"June will understand, I'm sure," he said.

"Yeah, I know," Neal replied, shifting Bugsy in his arms. One of the firemen walked over, telling them they'd gotten the fire out and it was probably safe enough to go back in if Neal wanted to grab anything.

"Mind holding the dog?" Neal asked, glancing at Peter, who took Bugsy from him gently.

"I'll put him in my car. You two can come home with me."

Neal didn't argue with that, already jogging back inside and upstairs. Peter followed after making sure the dog was safe in the car. The house still smelled like smoke and there were a few firefighters hanging around, making sure the rest of the house was alright. Upstairs, Neal's room looked untouched, but the room further back was where the fire had been and the walls were charred black. In the middle of it all, Neal was standing in front of a tall bookshelf along one of the blackened walls.

"Neal?" Peter questioned. He was standing so still.

Neal didn't answer, but he turned around, a look of devastation on his face as he clutched something to his chest.

Peter frowned, a little concerned, and Neal sighed heavily before he could speak. Still, he said nothing, instead kneeling down on the floor where he set down the thing in his hands, a little book.

Wordlessly, Peter joined his friend on the floor, watching as Neal reached down to open it.

The outside cover was badly burned and the inside was no better. It was full of what looked to be newspaper clippings, and those had been mostly burned as well. Neal held a hand to his mouth, blinking to clear away the moisture in his eyes.

"They're gone," he murmured. "My god, they're gone..." He flipped a few more tattered pages before giving up and pushing the book away almost viciously.

"Neal," Peter started, but Neal shook his head, waving him off as he returned to the bookshelf, pulling a small box down before leaving the room quickly.

Peter watched him go, stunned, then focused on the book sitting there. He picked it up, flipping through it. A lot of it was burned beyond recognition, but he could make out some of it here and there. On one page, he found one of the articles mostly intact. It was some sort of fashion column, as far as he could tell. By Felix Turner. The name didn't ring any bells, but he quickly realized by piecing together a few more readable pages that these were all by the same man.

Peter glanced over towards the door. Why did Neal have a bunch of articles by Felix Turner? And why did he seem so upset that they'd been ruined?

He was determined to find out.

-)()(-

Neal twisted his fathers' rings in his hands, sitting upstairs in the Burkes' guest bedroom. He'd insisted that he'd be fine at June's. The fire hadn't even touched his room. But Peter had stubbornly brought him home with him.

"It smells like smoke in there," he'd said, "You'll sleep much better here."

It was already almost one in the morning, but Neal couldn't sleep. He figured that Peter and Elizabeth would be sleeping, though, so he was surprised when his door cracked open and then Elizabeth stuck her head in. Seeing him awake, she opened the door all the way and smiled a bit. "Can't sleep?"

Neal shook his head. "It's alright. You can go back to bed."

She didn't. Instead, she walked over to sit beside him on the bed, glancing down at the two little rings in his hand.

"These are mine," Neal felt the need to point out.

"Where'd you get them?" Elizabeth asked, not accusingly, but curiously. Neal was grateful for that.

"My parents," he admitted without meaning to. He was too tired to lie.

She held a hand out, tilting her head. "May I?"

Neal handed them over and she examined each one. They were simple silver, not with any particular patterns on them except an F etched into the inside of one, and an N on the other.

"Franklin and Nellie?" Elizabeth guessed, smiling.

Neal shook his head, amused. "No."

"Frida and Neal? Were you named after your father?"

Neal laughed. "No." He reached out to take one of the rings, holding it up to see the F on it. "Felix."

Elizabeth looked at hers. "And?"

Neal considered lying, but before he could think of a female name beginning with N, "Ned" had already slipped from his tongue.

Elizabeth looked at him in surprise for a moment, glancing at the rings again. "Were you adopted or was one of them your real dad?" she asked eventually.

"Felix," Neal said, smiling softly. "I look just like him, from what I remember. He died when I was young, so the only image I really have of him is... Well he got bad near the end..."

After that, everything just came pouring out. He didn't know why he was telling her all of this, but he didn't really care anymore.

He told her about Felix's slow and painful death, in and out of the hospital. He told her about waking up to find Ned still in his bed, but not sleeping. He told her about running away right then and there, never once looking back.

By the end, they were both crying and Neal told her about how the fire had destroyed the last remnants of Felix and how now all he had left of his real dad was the ring in his hands.

"Were you close to him?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

Neal nodded. "Always. He was quiet and kind. He just wanted to see the world and enjoy every bit of it. He was... a lot like me. Ned was loud and stubborn, always fighting for a cause. But that's not to say I didn't like him. I loved them both in their own ways."

"You don't have any other family?"

"No," Neal said quietly. "It's been over ten years now, but..." He trailed off with a shrug and a tiny smile. It still hurts, he wanted to say. He didn't have to. She knew.

Elizabeth placed a comforting hand on his back, giving him a gentle pat. "Try and get some sleep." She took both rings and took them over to the bedstand to place them in the little box he kept them in. "I'm making a good breakfast in the morning so you better be up."

As she headed for the door, Neal called, "Hey, El... Thank you."

She gave him a kind smile, and that was all before she disappeared back to her and Peter's bedroom.

-)()(-

Neal went back to June's bright and early. He probably would have left at the crack of dawn if Elizabeth hadn't made him stay for breakfast, though it seemed to be prearranged that way. Peter didn't pay attention to much, waiting for Neal to leave before he pulled out the charred scrapbook, spreading it out over the table.

Elizabeth perched over his shoulder. "You know he thinks that got destroyed, right?"

"It did," Peter hummed. "But there's something about it... Who's this Felix Turner guy and why does Neal have a bunch of his articles? There's gotta be something I'm missing."

"Hon," Elizabeth said, making him glance up. "Why don't you ask Neal?"

Peter snorted. "You really think he'd tell me?" But then he caught that look in her eye and squinted at her. "You know all about it, don't you? How?"

"He and I had a discussion last night," she replied. "But, really. You should talk to him about it. Just... ask him as a friend? Not as an agent?"

She gave her husband a quick kiss before heading to the door and Peter frowned. "What kind of discussion?"

-)()(-

June was, as Peter had said, completely understanding when Neal called to tell her what had happened. "I'm just glad you're alright," she said. "It was good luck that no one else was there."

Bugsy trotted around, inspecting the place as if there had been some grand change, but really, it all looked the same except the room upstairs that had been burned.

Once again, Neal stood there, looking at the damage. It was only after a moment that he remembered Felix's book. He'd been upset last night. He hadn't really looked at it. Maybe there was still some of it worth saving.

However, when he looked around, he couldn't see it anywhere. His heart sank even further and he brought both hands up to run over his face. It was gone. Peter might have taken it. Maybe he'd thrown it away.

"Looking for something?"

Neal spun around, blinking in surprise as Peter stood there, gazing at him curiously. In his hands he held the familiar, blackened scrap book. Neal eyed it almost warily, glancing between it and Peter as if he expected some side angle at play, some trick.

Peter held it out further, waving it a bit. "It's yours, isn't it?"

Neal came forward slowly, reaching out for it and then bringing it close to his chest as if it might blow away at any second. "You took it," he mumbled, not angrily. He was just relieved it was safe. Well, as safe as it was going to get.

"Yeah," Peter replied. "But El basically ordered me to give it back."

"Oh," Neal said quietly. That meant that she had told him everything.

"There's still a few pages that made it, at least partially, if that makes you feel any better."

Neal nodded, but said nothing, waiting.

"So..." Peter said after a while, "Who's Felix Turner?"

Neal looked at him in surprise. Elizabeth hadn't said anything. But he understood the little nudge she was sending his way, so he sighed, pulling the book away from his chest. "Felix Turner was my father."

He could see Peter thinking about that, the wheels turning in his head. "Was Caffrey your mother's name?"

"Yeah," Neal answered. "But she was a surrogate. I never met her."

Peter looked surprised at that. "Then who...?"

"My biological father was Felix," Neal said, "And my other father was Ned Weeks." He started flipping through the charred book in his hands, if only to occupy them with something.

"You never told me."

"I never told Mozzie," Neal said pointedly. "I never told anyone."

"Why?"

Neal shook his head. "It's complicated. People didn't understand back then and, frankly, they still don't. I just prefer to be my own person, not let myself be defined by who my parents were." Peter was looking at him imploringly, though, so Neal sighed heavily and pulled a half burnt chair out to sit down in.

"They both died within 24 hours of each other," he started. "It was 1993. Years after the whole AIDS thing that happened in the 70s and 80s. But people were still pretty ignorant about it. Felix got sick and... Well, you know how that goes. I remember all my friends and their families started looking at us like we were all sick, like how dare we be different than them?"

"What about your other dad?" Peter questioned.

"Felix died," Neal said. "The next morning, I walked into Ned's room and he was just... gone. They said it was Broken Heart Syndrome. I don't know about that. Ned loved Felix very much, but he always seemed stronger than that to me."

"Then you ran away," Peter guessed. "And you took your mother's name so no one could find you."

Neal nodded. "And you know the rest."

Peter said nothing for a while and Neal picked at the edges of the book in his hand.

"You know, I can probably find copies of those somewhere," Peter said. "We can put it back together, good as new."

Neal smiled sadly. "These were the originals. They had his notes on the sides." He'd never forget that handwriting. It was almost exactly the same as his own. "But yeah," he agreed. "I'd like that."

Peter walked over to where he was sitting, giving him a sympathetic look. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," Neal assured, waving him off. "I'm fine."

The look Peter gave him clearly stated that he didn't believe a word of it, but he didn't call him on it either, instead offering a hand. "What do you say we clean this place up a little before June gets back?"

Neal took the hand and stood, looking around with a wince. "Yeah... It looks like a bomb went off in here."

As they got started, Neal set the little scrapbook aside. He'd deal with that later. For now, he was just grateful for a distraction. Peter was right. They could put it back together good as new, even if they'd lost a little bit of Felix to the flames.

-)()(-

"Close your eyes," Peter ordered.

"I already know where we're going," Neal grumbled. "I can smell El's cooking from here."

It was Neal's birthday, but he wasn't focused on that. Tomorrow, they'd go and pick up the copies of Felix's articles, then they could get started on recreating the scrapbook. It wouldn't be perfect. They couldn't possibly bring back Felix's notes on the margins, but Neal would be happy anyway.

"Just close your eyes," Peter said again. "Do you want to be the one to ruin your own birthday? Because Elizabeth wants this to be perfect."

Neal rolled his eyes dramatically, throwing up his hands. "Fine, fine. But if you lead me into a wall..."

"What do I look like?" Peter muttered, and as Neal obediently closed him eyes, the agent took him by the arm and led him inside.

Neal was oh so tempted to peek, but when he tried, Peter stuck his hand over his eyes, apparently anticipating that. "No cheating!"

"Alright! Alright!"

He could tell when they walked into the dining room. Peter slipped the hand away from his eyes, and he expected to open them and see good food and better wine, probably a cake or three on the side, but there was nothing like that. Just a single leather-bound book in the middle of the table.

Neal blinked. It looked like...

"You put it together without me?" he questioned, glancing at Peter in surprise and a little disappointment.

Mozzie spoke up from his place at the end. "Just open it."

Neal picked it up. It felt the same in his hands as it always had, and it smelled like old paper and aftershave, as it always had. But the best part came when he opened it to see the newspaper clippings inside, all whole and even a bit crinkled and yellow as he recalled them being.

And there, scrawled on the edges of every page, was Felix's handwriting, clear as day. Neal glanced up in shock, looking around at the other three. "What... How did you...?"

Mozzie raised a hand. "That would be yours truly. Perfect recall, remember? I... read through it once when you were out. I also took the liberty of aging the paper a bit for you."

Neal flipped through a few pages, but couldn't read much due to the tears welling up in his eyes. It was all there, like he'd never lost it in the first place. "I don't even know what to say," he said, smiling broadly and probably looking like an idiot as he half laughed, half cried, clutching the book in his hands.

Elizabeth came right over and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, which he returned gratefully. "You don't need to say anything. We already know."

Neal didn't let go of the book all night long, and when he got back to June's, he flipped all the way through it, finding every detail the same as he remembered. Even the handwriting was spot on. He had to remember to thank Mozzie for that again and again until he got sick of it.

The little book was tucked under his pillow with great care, and that was where it stayed. Neal sometimes felt like it allowed him to be closer to Felix in some way, that when he fell asleep every night, his father would smooth his hair back and whisper a good night as he had so many years before.


	2. Chapter 2

Neal's expression changed in a flash, which Peter saw a lot with him, but this time, he was confused as to the cause of it. All he'd said was that one of the men in the tech department had gone in to the hospital that morning. They were saying it was AIDS.

Then he remembered. Felix had died of AIDS.

"Sorry," he said. "I—"

"Who was it?" Neal asked, interrupting him with more curiosity than Peter thought was normal for him.

"Uh, Agent Walters. Why?"

He was puzzled to see Neal's eyes widen slightly. "Russel?"

"Yeah, that's his name. You okay, Neal?"

"Yeah, I just... I know him."

Peter looked at him oddly. "When have you ever hung out with the tech guys?"

"Clearly more often that you think," Neal said. "Do you know which hospital he's at?"

"Uh, why the sudden interest in a random agent from the tech department?" Peter asked suspiciously.

"So that's a yes," Neal said, "But you're not going to tell me until you verify that I'm not asking for nefarious purposes."

"I'm just a little surprised," Peter said. "Is it because of why he's in the hospital that you're so anxious to go see him?"

"Yes," Neal replied, shrugging. "There, I said it. Now, would you feel better if I told you that you could accompany me the whole way?"

"Lenox Hill is outside your radius, so yes, I will be accompanying you," Peter said. He put a hand on Neal's shoulder when the younger man went to turn away. "Neal, you know you can talk to me about this whole thing if it's bothering you."

"What whole thing?" Neal asked innocently.

"Come on, don't do that. You're going to see someone you barely know just because he's got the same thing your father had."

"Oh, I know Russel," Neal said, not giving Peter a chance to ask about that before he headed back to his desk.

There was something fishy about this, though, Peter couldn't help but notice. First off, Neal kept calling Agent Walters by his first name, indicating that he knew the man well enough to do so. Second, it was the way Neal had said that last thing. There had been something in his eyes there, almost a shyness Peter had never seen from him before. Well, not since... Not since Kate...

Peter blinked suddenly in his chair and glanced quickly down at his CI, who didn't take notice. Was that it? Neal and Russel...?

Peter shook his head. No, Neal was a womanizer. Everyone knew that. Still, for the rest of the day, Peter couldn't help but return to that thought and remember all the little insignificant times he'd seen Neal turn that charming grin of his to a male agent.

Peter shook his head to clear it. He wasn't even going to ask.

-)()(-

Neal couldn't concentrate on what was in front of him. His mind kept returning to Russel. Russel in the hospital. Russel lying there thin and pale. Felix. Russel laughing with him about other agents. Russel's smile. Russel's kisses.

He'd never been open about who he was, but Russel had accepted him quite easily. Their secret had remained that way for almost four months until they'd unanimously decided to break it off. No hard feelings. They'd had a good run, but they were two different people.

Now, almost three months later, Neal was nervous because Russel was ill, and not the kind of ill that went away. Russel was really sick, and he couldn't help but relive the last night they'd spent together. It was wild and fun and crazy and all manner of things like that. And now, Neal knew, it had been dangerous.

As in any uncertain situation, he called Mozzie, and his friend was there in a flash, ready to plan a caper at a moment's notice, but all it took was one look at Neal for him to pause and ask, "Are you okay?"

Neal gave him a wry smile. "I don't know."

He told Mozzie about what he had heard about Russel today, and the little guy listened intently. He'd known about the two of them, and despite his distrust of any and all feds, he'd grown to like the agent in his own way. And, as usual, he knew immediately what Neal was worried about.

"So you're afraid that since he's sick, you might be sick too."

"Or I'm the carrier," Neal added, shaking his head. "Either way, this is at least partly my fault."

"I don't think Russel would see it that way," Mozzie said. "And if the situation were reversed, I know you wouldnt blame him. Go talk to him about it."

"I was planning to," Neal said. "But that still doesn't tell me if..." He trailed off with a sigh. "I suppose I could look into it while I'm there, but Peter's coming with me. I don't want him to know."

"Ah," Mozzie hummed. "Well, then what do you need me to do?"

Neal looked at him with a slowly growing smirk. "Are we scheming again?"

"That we are, my friend. That we are."

-)()(-

Lenox Hill was a big place. Big and intimidating, but Neal tried not to think about one of the two reasons he was here. As far as Peter knew, he was just coming to see a friend, and that was what he wanted to leave it at.

They found the agent's room after a while of searching and Neal walked in first, a little anxious to see what he'd find. Russel was sitting up, and he glanced over, looking surprised to see Neal there.

"Oh, hey," he greeted.

Neal smiled a bit. "Hey..."

In unison, they both looked at Peter, who sighed. "I'll go grab a coffee."

Neal was glad he understood, and as his handler walked out of the room, leaving them alone, he gave Russel a concerned look. "You okay?"

Russel shrugged. "Well, you know... It's a hospital. It's pretty damn boring." He chuckled a bit. "You don't have to be worried about me, Neal. Nobody's died from AIDS in a while. They've got stuff for it now."

"No cure, though," Neal said.

Russel sighed. "True, that." His eyes suddenly widened and he spoke more quietly when he asked, "And are you... okay?"

"Not sure yet," Neal answered. "That's part of the reason I came."

"Only part?" Russel inquired.

"You know you're important to me," Neal admonished. "Just because things ended between us doesn't mean we have to stop being friends." His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he knew it was probably Mozzie, so he pulled it out, glancing at the text.

'Room 413. I've got them waiting for you.'

"You have to go, don't you?" Russel guessed.

Neal nodded. "Yeah. When Peter gets back here, tell him I went to speak with a nurse."

Russel looked at him with a small chuckle. "Let me guess. It wouldn't be a lie?"

"No, it wouldn't," Neal smirked. He came closer to Russel's bedside, leaning down to give him a short hug. "Once you get out of here, I'll have to take you dancing again."

"Get lost," Russel laughed, though his cheeks reddened in a blush.

Neal gave him one last smile before leaving the room. 413 was a floor above them, so he headed up there, easily finding Mozzie waiting for him out in the hall.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"Little bit," Neal replied, not bothering to lie to his friend. He knew what would follow after entering that room. He'd looked everything up last night to ease his mind. It was no big deal. Just a blood test. At least he had good timing because it had already been the recommended time to wait before getting tested. The only thing that bothered him was that he'd had to wait a couple weeks before knowing what the results were. That and the results wouldn't actually tell him if he had AIDS, only HIV. Still, at least he'd know something.

"I'll wait out here for you," Mozzie said. "If I see the Suit, I'll give you the signal."

Neal smiled. "I'm sure it'll be loud and clear."

Walking into the room, he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax, smiling at the pretty nurse who met him there.

Things went quickly after that. First, they asked him if he'd like to speak with a counselor, which he declined. He already knew what to expect and it wasn't like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Then they took his information, asked a few questions, and told him what they'd be doing. Neal was relieved to learn that he didn't actually have to connect his name with any of this, just an anonymous number. At least he didn't have to worry about Peter finding out that way.

"Alright," the pretty nurse, Marcia, said in a cheerful voice. "You ready, hon?"

Neal nodded, rolling up his sleeve. "As I'll ever be."

He'd never liked needles.

-)()(-

As soon as he saw that Russel's room was lacking a certain someone, Peter got that feeling he'd come to know as his 'Neal is doing something I won't like' alert.

"Where's Caffrey?" he asked.

Russel gestured to the door. "Went to talk to a nurse. They're probably making out in the supply closet," he smirked. "Check there first."

Peter went back out into the hall and immediately pulled out his phone, dialing Neal's number and waiting.

No answer. Great.

Peter sighed. It probably didn't mean anything. Still, he started pulling up Neal's tracking data to at least make sure he was still in the building as he walked back into Russel's room.

"There's been something I've been wanting to ask you," he said. "Well, I was going to ask Neal."

Russel looked at him curiously. "Shoot."

"How do you know Neal?"

Russel blinked, puzzled. "Well, we do work in the same building, Agent Burke. We've run into each other a few times."

"So you're friends?"

"Yeah, sure."

Peter hummed, glancing back down at his phone. Yep, there was that little dot, still in Lenox Hill. He couldn't see what floor he was on, but he at least felt a little better. What trouble could Neal get into in a hospital? Actually... he didn't want to think about that. Looking back up to Russel, he said, "He just seemed really eager to come see you. I thought maybe there was something going on."

"Between me and Neal?" Russel asked, then paused. "There was."

"There was?"

Russel shrugged. "What? I'm not the only gay agent in the FBI."

"No, it's not that," Peter said, "I just didn't think Neal..."

"Well, I don't think anyone did," Russel chuckled. "He does flirt with every girl within his two mile tether."

"What broke it off?"

"Eh, we're just two different people. We got along great, but neither of us really knew what we were doing. We both figured we liked each other better as friends, so why not keep it that way?"

Peter hummed. "Well, at least you've still got that."

He glanced at his watch with a frown. "That's one long chat with a nurse."

Russel smirked. "What'd I tell you? I'd start with the supply closet down the hall."

"Been talking about me?" Neal's voice spoke from the doorway.

"Who else?" Russel replied, and Peter turned to give Neal a suspicious look.

"Where have you been?"

"Talking to one of the nurses," Neal said easily. "She was explaining about Russel."

"Alright, well let's get going. I promised El I'd meet her for lunch."

They said goodbye to Russel and headed back, but Peter still felt like he'd been made a fool of again. He'd missed something right under his nose and he had no idea what it had been.

-)()(-

A week passed with no unusual activity on Neal's part, and Peter wondered if maybe he was just being paranoid. He'd been chasing Neal Caffrey too long. Maybe he needed to stop and realize Neal wasn't running anymore. But, no, this was Neal. He got into trouble just fine standing still. There was something going on here, he could feel it in his gut.

"You're working late." Jones' voice jolted him out of his thoughts and he sat up at his desk, rubbing his eyes.

"No, I was just thinking. Good night, Jones."

He glanced down at the bullpen. Most of the other agents had left, and he couldn't help but notice that Neal's desk was one of the empty ones. "Caffrey go home already? I told him I had a file I wanted him to look over tonight."

"Yeah, I gave it to him before he left," Jones replied.

Peter wordlessly held up the file from his desk, and Jones blinked at it. "Ohhhhh, that file."

"Don't worry about it," Peter assured him. "I'll just swing by on my way home and drop it off to him."

He did just that, calling Elizabeth to apologize. Again. She insisted that it was fine and no, she hadn't made dinner. She was smarter than that. Even as she said it, he could hear dishes clattering.

Once he got to June's, he was tired, and he just wanted to get home, but halfway up the stairs to Neal's room, he caught the sound of voices and paused, listening.

Neal's door was open a crack and Mozzie's voice said, "It's only been a week."

"I know that," Neal sighed, and Peter could hear him pacing. That was his nervous habit. "But isn't it killing you too?"

"It's not like you've shown any signs of it," Mozzie said. "And you know as well as anyone that in this day and age, it's not as dangerous as it used to be."

"I'm not worried about me," Neal argued. "I'm worried about Russel."

"No, you're worried it's your fault," Mozzie corrected, with a gentleness Peter was surprised to hear from him.

Neal went silent for a minute, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter. "What if it is? What if I did that to him, Moz? You know, what if I end up like—"

"You won't," Mozzie cut him off firmly. "Can we... carry on with our nondepressive evening?"

"That's not a word."

Peter finally announced his presence, coming the rest of the way up the stairs and making sure his footsteps were loud enough to give them a fair warning just in case.

He walked in to see the both of them sitting at the table looking like two kids with their hands caught in the cookie jar.

"Peter," Neal said in surprise. He caught a glance from Mozzie, who seemed to have guessed what had occurred.

"I just came to drop this off," Peter said, waving the blue file in his hand. "Jones gave you one of mine on accident."

"Oh."

"Uh, have a good night."

"Yeah, you too."

As Peter turned to leave, Mozzie called out, "Hold up, Suit. As kind as it is of you to pretend otherwise, we know you heard that."

Peter faced them again, looking a bit sheepish. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"Yes, you did," Mozzie said, not fooled one bit.

Neal looked down at the table in front of him. "So I guess that's out."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Peter asked, a little hurt.

"I wasn't sure how you'd react," Neal said. "I didn't really want anyone to know. Especially not anyone at the office."

"Did you think they'd look at you differently just because you're gay?"

"Bi," Neal corrected, shifting in his seat a bit uncomfortably. Peter didn't think he'd ever actually seen him truly nervous. "I don't know," Neal continued. "That and the fact that it was Russel. He's an agent, I'm a criminal. It's just..."

"Yeah," Peter nodded. "I get it."

Mozzie looked between them, gauging the atmosphere before standing. "Well, I was just leaving."

Neal stood as well. "See you tomorrow, Moz. Goodnight."

As Mozzie passed Peter, he muttered a goodnight to him as well, almost as an afterthought.

Then it was just Peter and Neal, and Neal sighed heavily. "Do I need to fill you in on anything or did you hear all of it?"

"I think I get the gist, yeah," Peter replied. "So... at the hospital, that was where you went?"

"I did talk to a nurse," Neal said defensively, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I guess I should have read that one better. Or you could have been up front with me from the beginning. You didn't have to sneak around." As Neal opened his mouth to protest, he added, "But I understand. I do."

Neal smiled a bit. "Thank you, Peter," he said. "For understanding."

"That's what friends are for, right?" Peter said, smiling back.

-)()(-

It had been three weeks now, and Peter was expecting Neal to text or call him sometime with either really good news or really bad news. He was hoping and praying for the former.

Then he got a message from Neal.

'Can u come over?'

He'd been enjoying a late breakfast with Elizabeth, but he almost immediately knew what it meant, so he explained quickly where he was going, grabbed his jacket and shoes, then headed straight to June's, heart hammering in his chest. He didn't have a good feeling about this.

"Neal?" he called halfway up the stairs.

The door was open and he found Neal on the couch with a book, looking like he hadn't slept a wink. The younger man glanced up at Peter's entrance, and when Peter looked at him expectantly, Neal said simply, "Nope."

"Nope?" Peter repeated, brow raised. "Is that good or bad?"

"It's a good nope," Neal replied. "I got the results last night. Negative."

"Last night?" Peter said, surprised. "You didn't tell me right away?"

Neal shook his head. For some odd reason, he didn't seem happy, despite the news. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't really think about that at the time."

Peter looked at him more closely. "You don't look like someone who's just received good news."

Neal said nothing, looking down at the book in his lap, which Peter noticed was still on the first page.

"You okay?" Peter prompted.

A small nod was his answer and Neal smiled a bit. "I was scared," he said, so quiet that Peter almost didn't catch it. He sat beside his friend, listening as Neal went on. "I couldn't stop thinking about Felix and the last time I saw him. And about Russel. I thought it was my fault."

Peter placed a hand on his shoulder. "Well now you know it wasn't. And don't worry about Russel. You've done the research, I know you have. He'll be okay."

"He's gonna have to deal with this for the rest of his life," Neal said. "That's hardly a comforting thought."

"Hey," Peter said, waiting for Neal to actually look at him before saying, "Where's the Neal I know? The one who could look at any situation and see only the good, no matter what."

Neal looked down and smiled slightly. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry."

"No need to apologize. You've been through a lot this past month," Peter said.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, then Peter leaned back and said, "So, tell me about Felix. What was he like?"

Neal looked at him, and Peter thought he'd give some excuse not to, but instead, he smiled. "He was kind of quiet. He didn't like to make a fuss about anything. He left that to Ned. I liked to sit with him while he wrote his pieces."

As Neal talked, his eyes lit up again and Peter listened, content to just let his friend tell story after story about his dads. He learned a lot that morning, like how little ten-year-old Neal used to actually make dinner all by himself, not because he had to, but because he loved to make his parents happy and proud. He learned that Felix was a kind and gentle man who never once uttered the word "no". Ned cared very much for his boyfriend and their son, and he was the strong one. The way Neal talked about them both made Peter happy.

When he left that afternoon, he couldn't help but notice a little book sticking out from underneath Neal's pillow over on his bed. The pages were yellowed, and the cover looked old. Peter smiled, but didn't say a word about it.


End file.
